


Don't

by ohmisterjapan



Series: Power Struggle [4]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-14 22:39:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18485881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmisterjapan/pseuds/ohmisterjapan
Summary: She takes herself into the bathroom, she usually opens and dismisses texts from him with a swipe but they have never sent images before and she's nervous and uncertain about what it means. She's holding her phone over the sink when she opens it.It's a dick pic.She closes it suddenly. Looks up at herself in the bathroom mirror and makes a face.What?She's flushed with a weird energy and paces in the confined space not really sure what to do. She sits herself down on the closed toilet.What?!She calms herself and then she opens it again. That is definitely Rio's aggressively hard cock in Rio's hand.[...]She types and sends a reply:I think we can find a use for thatAnd then, after some consideration:Don't touch it





	Don't

**Author's Note:**

> There are a couple of orgasm denial fics floating around that I'm super into (looking at you nottonyharrison and openhearts) so this is my spin on it.
> 
> Picks up on parts in 2.06 and 2.07

She's only just home herself when her phone buzzes, lights up, to tell her she's received an image.  _An image_. She pushes the door closed behind her absentmindedly with one hand, staring at the text on the screen.

He was pretty furious, she remembers his mouth contorting as he tries to control his cruelty. He flickers between petulant and powerful in front of her. She assumes he's at the storage unit now, maybe something's missing and he's showing her - she feels a bit sick. Maybe it's a picture of the craft boxes, and he's gently mocking her - that loosens the knot in her stomach a bit, but she's still freewheeling. 

She takes herself into the bathroom, she usually opens and dismisses texts from him with a swipe but they have never sent images before and she's nervous and uncertain about what it means. She's holding her phone over the sink when she opens it. 

_ It's a dick pic. _

She closes it suddenly. Looks up at herself in the bathroom mirror and makes a face.  _What?_  She's flushed with a weird energy and paces in the confined space not really sure what to do. She sits herself down on the closed toilet.

_ What?! _

She calms herself and then she opens it again. That is definitely Rio's aggressively hard cock in Rio's hand. Also, she notes with relief somehow, he's not in the storage unit. She laughs to herself.  _What is happening?_  This is a thing, and she knows it's a thing because of Annie. Because Annie has received many pictures of penises, solicited and unsolicited, over the years and Ruby and Beth have been there to squeal and rage and cackle and scoff in the recounting - and reviewing - of them. Echoes of these memories swim in her head giddily. 

She flicks up through their message chain: just words, sporadic and vague, details of meetings.  _Weird._

Well, not weird. _He wanted her._ He had wanted her on the desk in her office earlier, and had told her as much, although without those words. And here he is, telling her again, without saying it.

Right behind that thought, as if queued up ready, comes the self-doubt. How many other women does he send these pictures to? Her feelings twist and this new thing that made her excited now makes her feel manipulated and vulnerable instead. She thinks back to their conversation, his words thick with lasciviousness into an already thick room. Into a room in which she had no doubt how things were going to end, and it wasn't with her on top of the desk. He didn't have the power to will that into being.

He cannot will her to him. But _she can summon him_ \- that's been proven time and time again.

She types and sends a reply:

**I think we can find a use for that.**

And then, after some consideration:

**Don't touch it.**

She sits in silence for a few minutes, no reply comes.

\--

They're sitting on the tall stools at the bar, talking calmly and impersonally about logistics.

"Can we bring that delivery forward?" she asks, "That would solve the problem."

They are making  _a lot_  of money, she's tired but things have been running smoothly, she thinks that he must feel it too: they've reached an easy groove in their dealings. Beth doesn't know how many plates Rio has spinning but she's certain that the pills must be his primary income and  _she's making what he's making_  on that - she's running out of places to store the cash. She wonders whether he has a safe, and what the significance of its combination is, she wonders what his bedroom looks like, she wonders where he was when he took that picture. How often is he alone?

"I'm not going to do that," he answers her in a low tone, and her reply is delayed because she's been watching his face, distracted in thought.

"Care to explain?"

"Not really."

She sighs.  _Of course_ , things had been a little too easy she supposes. He still only talks to her in either provocations or unembellished statements of fact; he doesn't give her anything of himself. She unhooks her bag from the back of her chair and pulls out her wallet. 

"Okay. Well, we at least need to meet sooner to sort out what's on the lot then. I've got to go." She drops cash on the bar as she stands up, he places his hand over hers and watches her face.

"Feeling impatient?" his dark eyes flicker.

She pulls her hand away, "I can assure you, I'm not feeling any way at all."

He sits up tall, "Right..." he says in that way which implies he sees her bluff, he knows what's not being said, but  _no_  she thinks,  _not this time_. This time he's going to see how little he's prepared for her, how much more he's going to give to her and she won't even really need to take it because he'll _want_ to give it to her, really. He might  _convince himself_  she stole it, she thinks - that things were  _unfair_ \- maybe in moments when things don't go his way or when he reaches for something that used to be his but it isn't there anymore. But really, _this is how he wanted it_ , this is how to calm some of the wildness of him: by placing it in her steady palm. And that'll be a relief, she thinks, he'll learn that.

She walks to him, with a sway in her hips, and he stands up from his stool to look down on her. She looks him in the eye, places one hand on his shoulder and the other against his chest before sliding it down over his taut body, feeling his muscles beneath his shirt. He stands still as she manhandles him, watching her intensely. She slips two fingers in the gap between his buttons and onto the warm skin and fine hairs of his stomach before moving her hand down and squeezing him through his jeans.

She leans in close, speaks softly and clearly into his ear:

"Let's make things easier from now on," she lets go of his cock as the hand on his shoulder gives him a couple of pats, "just assume we're doing things my way." She grabs the shoulder strap of her bag again, turns, and walks out. 

\--

The next time he turns up he's with his guys and is all bravado, they're laughing as they walk in to her office. He has a spring in his step and swings his arms open wide, "Mrs Boland" he grins at her behind her desk. 

"Hello boys," she raises an eyebrow, "to what do I owe this conspicuous pleasure?" She moves to stand but he shakes his head and gestures that she should remain seated.

"Oh I wouldn't worry about them," he drawls, perching on her desk and rifling through the objects there, "they were just in the area, we're all on our way to Disneyland." He picks up the engraved name plate and studies it. 

She watches him cooly.

"How lovely, I assume you've got an update for me then?"

He ignores her, "I always wondered, where do you get one of these so fast? Did you have to pay for express shipping?"

She takes it from his hand and places it back in front of her, "Has something changed since we last confirmed? Because if not, I'm not sure why you're here."

He tuts, and stands up to face her square on over the desk, "You know why I'm here darlin'"

"No, I really don't," she says as she leans back in her seat, barely disguising how tired she is with his tone.

"Because we've got unfinished business," he clasps his hands in front of himself and looks her up and down with a lecherous smile, "about the deliveries and whatnot."

"As far as I'm concerned, everything has been agreed." She looks over to his guys, their expressions are blank, usually a gun is flashed at this point but she can't even see if they're armed.

He walks around the desk to stand beside her and lean to speak closer to her ear "Nah, see, if I'd agreed something - I'm sure you've have heard me say it. Did you hear me say it?" he patronises.   
  
She turns her chair away to face her computer monitor, she doesn't really give a shit what he does. "Fine. Do what you want, I don't really care."

He laughs, "Cool. I'll see you soon then, huh?"

She doesn't answer him and he brushes a hand on her shoulder as he and his guys walk out. 

\--

It's later that same evening that she sees his lean shadow move across her garden in her peripheral vision. She waits 10 minutes before she lets herself look out, he's sitting on the bench again, lit by the light from the window she's standing at. She moves straight into the frame and it casts a shadow, he looks up. She looks straight at his face as she draws the blinds closed.

She doesn't know when or if he leaves, but before she sleeps she sees the light from her phone reflected on the ceiling. She picks it up:

**I have not**

_Okay_ , she thinks, _I can work with that_.

\--

**Park meet. 7:30.**

She's given him ninety minutes warning, and drives over straight from work. She's had a good day. It's the turn of Autumn and mild, she's in boots but doesn't need her winter layers yet.  She parks in the carpark nearest the swings and sees his car caught in the last of the sunlight.  She gets out, smiling breezily and he opens his door.

"What's up?" he asks over the car door as he steps out and closes it.

"Come with me," she doesn't take him by the hand but she thinks about it. Instead she ends up making a kind of shepherding gesture which he raises his eyebrows at.

She brings them away from the climbing frames and slides, and past the manicured lawns and mounds, to the more wooded part of the park - if you could really call it that - behind a large elm tree, it's much darker in this corner and they're only a few metres from the tall fence that marks the north edge. 

"Elizabeth..." but she's on her knees now, and she just has to motion toward his zipper he's already undoing his jeans.

She pulls his thickening cock from his underwear and licks the length of him. Flattening her tongue as she closes her mouth around him and sucks hungrily. As she pulls up she licks and sucks the head, before pushing her lips tightly back down until he bumps the back of her throat. She maintains this, every so often pulling away to give a slow, wet, lick up the length of him and she watches his face. He's disarmed. 

Back here it's quiet and still, traffic is muffled in the distance, her wet sucking is amplified.  As he relaxes his breath becomes heavy, he pushes his fingers into her hair, gently holds her head, he starts to fuck her mouth and she lets him, snatching breaths as she can, feeling her mouth get messy. She feels twigs and stones and earth pressing into her knees. She closes her eyes. She feels tension building in his body, pays attention to the sensations, imagines what he's feeling, responds to what he likes. He's been increasing the pace of his thrusts and once he starts to sustain it she pulls away suddenly. She looks up at him. She closes her mouth and a smile flickers at the corners, she's a little out of breath and her eyes are watery, but she holds his eye contact as she sits back on her heels and wipes her mouth. He's looking into her eyes so she see's the realisation dawn on him that she's serious and he swears, looking at his still open hands that had just been wrapped in her hair. And she does smile then - she grins. 

\--

The next week passes. The cars arrive on the schedule she'd agreed, she makes the drops, they don't really need to see each other and so he doesn't come. They're holding up their ends of the deal. She feels significantly less uptight, she's comfortably in control, and she likes that she can depend on him. _Still..._ she thinks about that picture.

**Did you?**

**No**

\--

She leaves it three more days.

**House meet.**

He's there within 20 minutes. Standing tall in her kitchen. She's reclined on the sofa, her shoes kicked off, holding a glass of bourbon when she hears him come in. He doesn't speak when she turns, she holds a finger up anyway and finishes her drink before standing up. She's barefoot, in a floral shirt and black pants. She walks away from him through the house and he follows behind. In the bedroom she removes her blouse and drops it on the bed, when she gets to the bathroom she reaches into the shower and turns it on. She pulls the door closed behind him as he enters and locks the door. 

She removes her pants, then her bra, and then she steps out of her underwear. She turns to look at herself naked in the bathroom mirror. She rotates slowly, looking over her shoulder at the slight red marks left around the small of her back from her bra, she catches Rio devouring her body with his gaze. As she steps into the shower he leans his head back on the wall to watch her. 

She tips her head back first and lets the water run through her hair, then she turns in to the jets to wash her face. She inhales and exhales deeply once, her voice almost catching on the breath as a sigh, releasing all the tension she's been holding from the day. Then she proceeds to wash the whole day from her, pulling different bottles from the shower caddy one by one, scrubbing herself, making foams and releasing perfumes into the room, absorbed in the process. She shaves too, gliding the razor gently and attentively over her skin. 

Every so often when the glass fully fogs between them she wipes it down. He watches her through the glass, his face neutral. Eventually she turns the water off and as the torrent cuts to a drip just before the room falls quiet, she smooths her hands through her hair, squeezing as much excess water as she can from it. Finally she squeezes body lotion into her palm, rubs her hands together and then runs them all over her body quickly, before returning to each part and paying attention to rub the lotion in: her calves, thighs, belly, hips, arms, shoulders, neck, over and around her breasts and nipples. 

Once she's finished she opens the shower door and steam swirls through the room. 

She steps out, flushed and soft and clean, and the whole room smells like soap and essential oils.

She pulls a towel from the rack and quickly towel dries her hair before folding it loosely and dropping it onto the floor in front of his feet. He looks down at it. 

She puts her hands on his thighs and lowers to her knees naked, her body shimmering wet, and this time he's still and she is the one to undo his jeans. She begins the same way, with a slow lick from the base to the tip, as his heavy cock thickens, and then kissing and sucking on and around the head. She takes her time, makes her mouth wet and her tongue wide, her lips sometimes firm, sometimes delicate. He doesn't move, he doesn't make any noises. His back is against the wall, down by his right hand a hand-towel is draped through a metal hoop that's attached to the wall by a hinge, with two screws. She sees him run his fingers over the towel, lightly gripping it. 

His cock strains upwards, she feels his pre-cum slick under her tongue, and as she sucks his cock she shows him all the things she can be: she can defy his gun to her head, she can talk her way into and out of rooms she's not wanted in, she can take what she wants, she can parent fiercely, she can organise and strategise and think on her feet, and _yes she is soft_ , and light, but he should make no mistake - _she can own him with that too_ , that part of her _is_ _a superpower_.

She feels him watching the reflection of them in the mirror over the sink. Her soft curls are starting to dry, falling over her shoulders. 

She uses her hands, one at the base of his cock to compensate for the length she can't accommodate - she keeps it slick with her saliva - and the other gently roams, strokes, cups him. 

His grip tightens on the hand-towel and the metal ring underneath it as she works him. She builds a steady rhythm: She pulls off the full length of him before swirling her tongue over the head of his cock and swallowing back down, squeezing the base of him with her hand as it strokes. She's not watching his face but she knows he's been watching her and she feels it when he has to give in, rest his head back against the wall and look to the ceiling, he licks his lips and breathes heavily through parted lips.  He's not thrusting but she's taken control of his cock, building pace and pressure to draw out his pleasure. His body gets tense again, she sees it in the way he lifts himself slightly from the wall.

Then, she tastes it before she feels it filling her mouth, the only sound he releases is his breath. The sustained pressure of his grip on the hand-towel ring pulls it off the wall; it silently comes away in his hand as he comes hard and he doesn't even look down as he lets go and it falls to the floor. Head back, mouth open, his whole body releases.

As his breaths calm, she gets up and spits in the sink, they both watch as she turns the tap on and the water and his cum swirl around the drain and wash away.

She takes a towel from the wall and wraps it around her naked body. 

He looks at her silently, deeply, and she realises neither of them has spoken. _Don't_ , she wills him.

\--

It's two days until he sends her another picture of his cock.

She doesn't reply.

**Author's Note:**

> Not suuuure about this or where it's going.
> 
> ...Do people actually want detailed descriptions of blow jobs?


End file.
